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Anger is useful only to a certain point. After that, it becomes rage, and rage will make you careless.

Lauren Oliver

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Lauren Oliver
Age: 41
Born: 1982
Born: November 8
Author
Novelist
Science Fiction Writer
Writer
Westchester County
New York
Becomes
Point
Certain
Make
Careless
Rage
Useful
Anger

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Let me tell you something about dying: it's not as bad as they says. it's the coming-back-to-life part that hurts.
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Why couldn't you let me have it? Why did you have to take it? Why did you always take everything?
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Direction, like time, is a general thing, the deprived of boundaries and borders. It is an endless process interception and reinterception, doubling back and adjusting.
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I just want to be normal, like everybody else. Are you sure that being like everybody else will make you happy?
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They didn’t get me, I should have said. They saved me.
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Stupid how the mind will try to distract itself.
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That's the beauty of the cure. No one mentions those lost, hot days in the field, when Thomas kissed Rachel's tears away and invented worlds just so he could promise them to her, when she tore the skin off her own arm at the thought of living without him.
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And then, just at that moment, when I'm no longer sure if I'm dreaming or awake or walking some valley in between where everything you wish for comes true, I feel the flutter of his lips on mine.
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That's what time does: We stand stubbornly like rocks while it flows all around us, believing that we are immutable - and all the time we're being carved, and shaped, and whittled away.
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Funny how certain things stay with you.
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But hope got in, no matter how hard and fast I tried to stomp it out. Like these tiny fire ants we used to get in Portland. No matter how fast you liked them, there were always more, a steady stream of them, resistant, ever-multiplying. Maybe, the hope said. Maybe.
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Some things are better left buried and forgotten.
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The hours here are flat and round, disks of gray layered one on top of the other...they move slowly, at a grind, until it seems as though they are not moving at all. They are just pressing down.
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The mark of the procedure. A real one. Lu is cured.
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The tunnels may be long, and twisted, and dark but you are supposed to go through them.
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There are some losses we never get over.
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I’m sorry for everything.” Then he turns and pushes back into the woods, and he’s gone.
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We wanted the freedom to love. We wanted the freedom to choose. Now we have to fight for it.
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He was still in love with you, anyway.
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only when it rains. and sometimes, too, when i remember.
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